Chance Beginnings
by Flatlander Jr
Summary: Albus Dumbledore thinks that Methos is a muggle, while Methos thinks Dumbledore is a mortal. Soon enough, however, they're both proved wrong.


CHANCE BEGINNINGS

DANIELLE FRANCES DUCREST

Disclaimer: _Highlander _belongs to Rysher Entertainment, Gaumont Télèvision, and Davis/Panzer Productions. _Harry Potter _belongs to J. K. Rowling. Any copyright infringements were not intended. This story was written for entertainment and not for profit.

Spoilers and Timing: Spoilers are for general _Highlander_ and _Harry Potter _canon. This takes place in 1860, a year after Albus Dumbledore graduates from Hogwarts.

Assumed facts:

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone is based in 1991-1992. Albus Dumbledore is 150 years old by the time Harry's first year at Hogwarts begins. Dumbledore was born in 1841, started his education at Hogwarts in 1852, and graduated in 1859. 

*****

__

England, July 1860

"Pardon me, sir. Is this seat taken?"

Methos looked up from his drink and into the face of a young mortal man. He looked to be somewhere between seventeen and nineteen and gave the Immortal an uncertain grin. Even in the dim light of the tavern, his eyes seemed to twinkle a little as the young man gave Methos a friendly, questioning look. The mortal motioned at the stool next to Methos.

Methos shrugged. "Not that I know of. I haven't been sitting here long."

Apparently, that satisfied the young man because he sat down. Methos took in his manner of dress while the barkeep took the mortal's order. His clothing was a little eccentric, and appeared as if the boy had thrown on the clothes without any prior knowledge of where they were supposed to go. His trousers, shirt, and jacket were on the right way, but the jacket appeared to be one size too big for him and Methos was certain he saw the hint of women's drawers peeking out below one of his pant legs. Methos concluded that either the poor man had lost a bet, he was out of his right mind, or he'd done something illegal. Not that that explained the drawers, but it did explain the oversized clothes.

Either way, the mortal didn't appear at all concerned. After the barkeep gave him his drink, the mortal took a sip before turning to Methos again. "I'm Albus, by the way," he said. "Albus Dumbledore."

He offered his hand. Methos shook it. Even if the boy was involved in something criminal, Methos saw no harm in engaging the boy in small talk. He didn't plan to stick around for long, after all. Once he'd eaten his dinner, which was still being prepared by the tavern's cook, he planned to be on his way and out of town.

"Peter Adams," Methos introduced himself. "Albus is an interesting name. I don't meet too many people named that."

Albus' eyes widened in surprise and curiosity. "You've met another Albus? I thought…"

Whatever the boy was going to say, he stopped himself from saying it. Methos' interest was peaked even more. _Curiouser and curiouser…_

The tavern door opened. Two young men walked inside, laughing and talking. One of them looked to be about Albus' age while the other was a few years older. Their voices overrode the already noisy tavern, making Albus turn to the door. Albus smiled and waved at the newcomers. Obviously, he recognized them. 

"If you'll excuse me, Mr. Adams," Albus said to Methos as he stood up and grabbed his drink. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

Methos nodded to him and watched the boy join his friends at a table. He glanced over the group and took in their states of dress. The boy who was Albus' age appeared to be dressed appropriately and even stylishly. However, although his clothes were out of place in the run-down tavern, the boy obviously was not. The older man wore clothes similar to Albus', only his clothes fit him and nothing appeared to be out of place.

Methos turned away from then when his meal arrived. Whoever Albus and his two friends were up to, it was none of his business and not worth the time to make it his business. He planned to leave that town, and that was exactly what he would do.

An hour later, Methos and his horse had passed through the outer edges of the town and were beginning their trek through the countryside. Late in the afternoon he made camp along the edge of a forest. It would take several hours to pass through the forest, and Methos didn't fancy being in it after dark.

He tied the horse to a tree trunk and left it happily eating grass. It didn't take long for him to get his bedroll out, build a fire, and cook his dinner. He sat on his bedroll and hungrily ate his food. For a moment, there was silence all around him, broken only by the usual outdoor sounds of insects and birds. That all began to change as Methos was finishing his meal.

He was startled when a flock of birds took off into the sky from high up in the tree cover of the forest. They had obviously been startled by something, but by what was beyond him. Whatever it was, it was close. Methos reached inside his discarded jacket and pulled out his sword before getting into a crouching position. He regarded the tree line cautiously, searching for something out of place. With the setting sun, it was difficult to make anything out, but from what he could see, everything was in order.

He heard the noise of several tree branches snapping, one after the other. The noises grew louder with every passing moment.

Several moments passed before he could make out dark shapes within the forest. They appeared as blotches that zoomed from one end of the forest to another, too fast for him to see clearly. He could make out at least five of them. Every once in awhile they'd run into another branch and send that branch crashing down to the forest floor.

It was then that he heard someone shout out, "_Immobilis_!" 

Green light, too dazzling to be natural, lit up the entire forest.

Then, before he realized it was happening, one of the dark shapes had burst out of the trees. It, no, he, sailed across the field and over Methos' head, forcing Methos to drop to the ground to avoid getting hit.

"Wizards!" Methos exclaimed, annoyed and surprised at the same time. Who else would be flying around in a forest on broomsticks, shouting curses at each other?

It didn't appear that the immobilization spell had hit its target, for none of the wizards had been driven to the ground. In fact, it didn't take long for the other four wizards to burst out of the forest. 

It appeared that three of them were chasing the first two that emerged. The three chasers were dressed in muggle attire while the two others were wearing wizard robes. The second robe-clad wizard joined the wizard that had nearly run Methos over. The pair flew across to the opposite end of the field before stopping and turning with wands raised. Their pursuers stopped their broomsticks not far from Methos' position.

The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in the middle of a wizard duel. Methos hastily packed up his things. He'd try his luck with the forest wolves any day before having to deal with wizards.

"Mr. Adams?" Methos glanced up when his name was called. He looked up in surprise at the three wizards above him. His jaw dropped when he realized who they were. The one who'd addressed him was none other than Albus Dumbledore, the young boy he met at the town he'd just left. The two wizards on either side of him were Albus' two friends from the tavern.

He cursed. He should have known they were wizards. The female drawers were a dead giveaway.

*****

Methos turned back to his packing. He rolled up his bedroll before stuffing his mug, food bag, water bottle, and eating utensils back into his pack before tying it back to the slightly panicked horse's saddle. The horse had been alarmed greatly when the wizards had shot out of the trees, but a little coaxing was all that was required to get it to settle down again.

Overhead, the five broomstick riders were engaged in a verbal sparring match.

One of Albus' friends, the one dressed in the same ill-chosen Muggle clothing Albus wore, shouted across the field to the other two. "By order of the Wizengamot of the Ministry of Magic of Great Britain, you are to turn yourselves over to us to be tried in a full court for crimes committed against wizarding society. If you do not turn yourselves over freely, you will be taken with force."

"Burn in hell, Sunders!" one of their two opponents shouted back.

"He must not know you well," the other of Albus' friends remarked quietly to Sunders, "or he'd know that you're already doomed."

"Do shut up, Longbottom," Sunders told him, just as quietly. He turned away from Gregory Longbottom, his fellow Auror and friend of only a year, and shouted, "Come peacefully, Spar! Your sentence will be lighter if you do; I'll make sure of it."

As an answer, Spar and his partner raised their wands, each shouting out the same spell. "_Immobilis_!"

The three Aurors easily flew out of the spells' ranges, but their attackers didn't stop there. They continued to shout out spell after spell. The Aurors soon become busy ducking unfriendly spells, shouting counter-spells, and shouting out their own offensive spells. The other two did likewise.

Spells that missed their targets either dissipated or exploded against the ground, lodging up clogs of dirt and grass and the occasional plant. Methos cursed in twenty different languages as he, too, was forced to duck around the spells. His endearments were made even more difficult by his horse, which jumped nervously even when spells impacted the earth all the way across the field.

Eventually, Methos gave up riding the horse altogether. Instead, he got off and, whispering soothing words in the horse's ear, forced the horse to move forward, all the while he tried to keep a look out for any wayward spell that landed too close for comfort.

Above him, the five wizards continued to wage war, completely ignoring the Immortal, or they did until Albus had dodged one of many spells targeted at him. Suddenly remembering the Muggle man down below, Albus glanced down to see where the spell had landed, only to see it headed straight for the man he thought was Peter Adams.

He took a deep breath to shout a warning down at the muggle only to stop himself. His eyes widened as he saw something he thought was impossible.

He watched as Adams seemed to hear the spell approaching. He turned, glancing up at the spell. Albus was surprised to see a look of annoyance on the man's face. A moment later, he realized why.

Adams raised his left hand, the one not holding on to his horse's reigns, above his head with his palm facing up. The wayward spell collided with the open palm. Impossibly, the spell seemed to wrap itself around Adams' hand in a sphere-shape. Blue lightning danced off Adams' palm and on to the spell.

Adams lowered his hand and shook it, causing the spell to dissipate into nothing. A second later, he began anew to whisper assurances to his horse and guide the animal across the field.

Albus' jaw dropped before his attention was turned back to the fight.

"_Petrificus totallus_!"

Longbottom dodged out of the way of the spell. "_Stupefy_!" Longbottom shouted back at Spar's friend, Travers.

"_Ennervate_!" Travers shouted at the stunning spell heading towards him. The two spells collide, effectively neutralizing each other.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Albus shouted at the same time that Travers spoke the anti-stunning spell. Before Travers even realized it, his wand was flying out his hand and through the air to Albus' outstretched one.

Spar ducked Sunder's offensive spell before he heard Albus speaking. Spotting the wayward wand quickly, he pointed his wand first at Sunders, Dumbledore, and Longbottom and shouted, "_Execto Patronum_!"

Immediately, a shadowy, white-colored Patronus resembling a jaguar shot out of his wand. While Patronuses were meant to chase away dark creatures like dementors, the Patronus was always conjured in mid-leap. It leapt through the air, unable to stop itself, right at the three Aurors.

The Aurors got out of its way easily. The jaguar continued past them, landing easily on the ground before it kept running, disappearing into the treeline.

While the Aurors were distracted, Spar turned his attention to Travers' wand, which, now released from Dumbledore's _expelliarmus _spell, was falling steadily toward the ground. "_Accio _wand!" Spar commanded.

The wand easily flew into his hand. Spar tossed it back to Travers.

Travers caught it in the same instant that Sunders, Dumbledore, and Longbottom all raised their wands and shouted, "_Stupefy_!"

Neither Spar nor Travers had time to counter or parry, and both of them were hit full-on by the spells. Their bodies immediately relaxed, becoming dead weights in the air, before they both began to plummet off their brooms toward the ground some thirty or forty feet below.

"_Mobilicorpus_!" Dumbledore and Sunders shouted together. Their spells halted Travers' and Spar's bodies in the air.

Dumbledore and Sunders carefully guided their two captives to the ground with their wands. Longbottom flew down before them to collect their captives' two brooms, which had both fallen to the ground.

As soon as the three Aurors were all on the ground and Travers and Spar were floating a few inches above it, full body binds were placed on the two captives. It was only then that the Aurors allowed themselves to relax.

"Well done, Dumbledore, Longbottom," Auror Ashton Sunders congratulated the younger two members of his team. "Now, we only need to track down that muggle and perform a memory charm on him, and then we can head back to the ministry."

Albus glanced around the spell-ridden field but could see no sign of Peter Adams. "I'll do it, Ashton," he volunteered. He was better at memory charms than either of them, after all. Besides, they'd spent the better part of a month tracking down Jonas Spar and Julius Quentin Travers. The sooner the two were in confinement, the better.

Sunders studied the younger Auror for a minute before nodding. "All right. I expect to see you at the Ministry within the hour."

Albus nodded.

He waited until the others had Apparated away before he turned and headed toward the forest. He scanned the treeline and could spot three possible paths the Muggle had taken. He decided that flying would be easier than walking and remounted his broom before flying back into the tree cover.

By this time, the sun was quickly disappearing in the distance, making it almost impossible to see in the forest. He hoped it was enough; he didn't want to risk casting a _lumos_ spell and giving himself away to the muggle. Hopefully, the other man would have lit a lamp; it would make it easier to locate him.

He lay his wand flat against his open palm, clutching with all his might to his broomstick with his legs. He'd never been the best broomstick rider in the world and hoped his luck hadn't run out for the day regarding that area. He glanced down at his wand and said, "Point me to Peter Adams."

The wand spun in his hand before coming to a stop. Albus flew in the direction it indicated, careful to make as little noise as possible.

After fifteen minutes passed, he heard the unmistakable noises of a horse walking through the forest. He could barely make out a figure on a horse only a few meters ahead.

Adams didn't notice Albus flying down and landing in his path. He didn't even realize the wizard was there until Albus had held his wand up and said, "_Lumos_!"

The path was suddenly lit by the light originating from the end of his wand. The horse started a little, but after the scene in the field, the unexpected appearance of light didn't faze it that much.

For a moment, Albus and Adams stared at each other. Then Albus took a step forward.

Adams reached into his coat and, to Albus' amazement, pulled out a three foot sword. Unfortunately, there wasn't much distance between the two, and the end of the sword rested rather threateningly in front of Albus' face. The threat was very clear; if Albus made any sudden movements, Adams could easily lop Albus' raised wand arm from his body.

"Don't come any closer," Adams said. His voice held a slight note of fear in it, and it sounded very real to Albus' ears.

"I don't mean you any harm, Mr. Adams," Albus assured the muggle. "Perhaps I could offer you an explanation about what you saw?"

"You mean you'll tell me what that freak show was about?" Adams asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Albus suddenly smiled. He knew, looking into Adams' eyes, that Adams was a force to be reckoned with, but for some reason Albus felt no real fear toward the other man. He took a gamble and said, "I believe you know part of the answer to that already."

Albus was certain he saw a flash of surprise before Adams' eyes narrowed once more. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do. I saw you do something to ward off one of those spells."

He saw a whirlwind of emotions fly through Adams' eyes before the man finally lowered his sword. "Bloody wizards," he muttered.

Albus lowered his arm but made sure to keep his wand pointed away from either Adams or his horse.

"I take it you do know something of the situation?" Albus questioned.

Adams sighed. "Yes, I know something about the bloody situation. You'd think you wizards would learn to be a little more careful, considering how you're so intent on staying secret from the rest of the bloody world."

He gazed at Albus for a minute. His eyes seemed to penetrate Albus' very depths, making the young wizard shiver. In the morning, Albus would likely wake up and wonder what on Earth made him trust the other man so implicitly. It was obvious, after all, that the man was no stranger to death and had likely killed many people himself. Albus had had a very good look at Adams' blade; he knew a very sharp sword when he saw one.

That evening, however, Albus felt instinctively that he could trust the muggle, if that was what he was.

That was why he didn't hesitate to answer when Adams said, "You were sent to perform a memory charm on me, no doubt."

Albus nodded. "Yes, I was. No need to do that anymore, it seems."

Again, Adams studied the wizard for a long, silent moment. Albus gazed back into his eyes and could see only a carefully calculating look. "How old are you, Albus Dumbledore?" he asked.

The question took Albus by surprise. It seemed to startle Adams as well, as if he hadn't intended to ask it aloud. Albus saw no reason not to answer. "I'll be turning nineteen in a few months."

"Nineteen…" Adams repeated quietly. He shook his head in amazement but refrained from saying what he found so shocking.

Albus would later wonder why he'd been so bold. He asked with a smile and twinkle in his eyes, "Now that I've told you my age, perhaps you could tell me yours?"

Peter Adams only smirked in amusement. Later, Methos would wonder what prompted him to answer as truthfully as he did. He said, "Older than you may think, young Albus Dumbledore. Much, much older than you, as well."

A far-off wolf howl resounded through the forest. They glanced in the direction it came from. "I must be off," Adams said.

Albus watched as Adams sheathed his sword. "Perhaps we'll see each other again," Adams said.

Albus smiled. "Perhaps."

He watched as the "muggle" rode down the path and disappeared around a bend in the trees. Then Albus apparated away.

When he met up with Sunders and Longbottom back at the Ministry, Sunders told him, "Spar and Travers have been locked in solitary confinement for the time being until their trial. Did you have any problems with the Muggle?"

Albus shook his head. "No."

"Good!" Greg said before wrapping a friendly arm around both Albus' and Ashton's shoulders. "Then that means we can all celebrate by getting sodden drunk."

Sunders glared at Longbottom's arm. "If you don't remove your arm in the next ten seconds-"

"Relax! The cooties hex wore off days ago. You've got nothing to worry about," Greg protested.

Sunders harumfed.

THE END


End file.
